Fallout: Enemy Unknown
by Lone Gundam
Summary: The Lone Wanderer has done the impossible time and again. Now a new threat has arrived. Can the Wanderer gather the resources and allies necessary to combat this threat or will mankind burn once more?


Fallout: Enemy Unknown

The sun was setting over the Capital Wasteland; the land slowly turned dark as another night in the increasingly peaceful wasteland, or as Arthur Vance would say increasingly boring. He wasn't buff-looking guy, but that didn't mean he was strong. He was about 6 ft. tall with shoulder-length black hair. He wasn't a supermodel but his chiseled features and scars could land him a few dates. His most striking feature was his eyes; they were grey, combined with his experience they looked almost like steel. Arthur sat there, watching the sun go down and feeling relaxed; too damn relaxed in his humble, but right, opinion.

Almost everyone who scraped by in a post-war hell would be rejoicing the lack of danger in the wastes, Arthur was not almost everyone. Arthur had grown up in Vault 101 and lived a pretty peaceful life there, that was until his dad left and the Overseer went crazy. Since then he made quite a name for himself; he killed all the slavers of Paradise Falls, helped escaped slaves create a new community at the old Lincoln Memorial, freed the Pitt from Ashur's reign, cleared out Everest Mills, purged the ruins of D.C. of all dangers, slaughtered the super mutants of Vault 87, finished Project Purity, and beat the Enclave down twice. All in all, he did a damn good job at being a good person.

That left one problem, there was nothing left for him to do; the raiders were scattered, the Deathclaws were driven off, Talon Company was broken, the Outcasts were convinced to rejoin the Brotherhood, the super mutants fled westward, and the Regulators and BOS were keeping the peace. Arthur thought on what to do but couldn't decide on anything. He sat there until his Pip-Boy blinked.

He had a new signal on his radio frequencies. That wasn't a good thing; every time he got a new radio signal, he was dragged into some new horror story. The simulation of the Liberation of Anchorage, the Pitt, and Point Lookout were the first things that came to mind. However, if he didn't take this, some poor sap that didn't have enough balls or guns to deal with this shit would. Arthur gathered his and headed up north.

()

Hours later, Arthur came across the site from where the signal was coming from. There was nothing, no ruins, no rocks, no ambushes, nothing. However, traveling the wasteland left him with a sixth-sense of sorts and it was screaming at him to run and never return. Forcing it down, he drew his Kneecapper and slowly looked around.

The next instant, his body was wracked with pain that made everything he went through look like a playground scrape. His knees eventually buckled under the strain and he went down. As his vision blackened, the last thing he saw was a thick pair of armored green legs walking towards him.

()

Arthur's eyes slowly opened to a bright light shining down on him. He was strapped buck naked to a metal table and all around him were more tables filled with struggling captives like him. A door opened and what walked in was an honest-to-god (that was if he existed) alien. It had long flowing red robes with a silver headdress-mask over its head and four long arms that had glowing energy in the palm of each of its hands.

It stared at him, as if evaluating him. Then his head was filled with vision, of fire, of blood, of death.

_FIREBLOODDEATHFIREBLOODDEATHFIREBLOODDEATHFIREBLOODDEATHFIREBLOODDEATHFIREBLOODDEATH_

_YOUR WORLD HAS BURNED AND IT IS OUR DUTY TO FINISH WHAT STARTED 2OO YEARS. REJOICE AS YOU HAVE BEEN CHOSEN TO LEAD THIS CLEANSING FIRE._

()

AN: That's right folks. The Ethereals have replaced the aliens of Mothership Zeta. If I had gone on to write a story on this, it would involve the BOS becoming the post-apocalyptic XCOM. If y'all want to write a story on this, go ahead and do it. You don't have to message me just write.


End file.
